


iyashikei

by Mechaffeine



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Gen, Other, POV Second Person, gender neutral reader, give me ideas I am a desert and few things grow here on their own, no beta reader for my editing process is a simple two step 1)fuck around 2) find out, other characters to join as I write more, this is my diversion from school
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27465751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mechaffeine/pseuds/Mechaffeine
Summary: Iyashikei - ‘Healing’.Works of fiction with little to no conflict, emphasizing nature, the mundane, and the little delights in life.-A set of tales from MC's stay in the Devildom. The sorts of things that would barely be worth writing into a diary, because it's so... Almost ordinary.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	1. Distraction Food and Study (Satan)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which you are avoiding studying, as I myself am avoiding school work, by consuming whatever you can think to consume- but since you live with the demon brothers, you can afford to eat an entire tub of ice cream, instead of drinking cup after cup of instant coffee, as I must do.  
> 

“What if I just ate like. **All** the ice cream in the fridge right now. All at once.”

“Aside from the brain freeze you’d be stuck with for a while?” Satan shook his head. “It wouldn’t be very healthy for you. And I don't imagine your stomach will feel very good after you've gone and done it, either.”

“Yes but imagine. I could probably do it, if you gave me a big enough spoon.” If you had thought about it a little more, you'd realize that the chance of actually succeeding in eating the **whole** **freezer's** worth of ice cream was, in fact, _very low_. But a single tub? **That** would be doable. You nodded, already trying to conjure which of the many would be your target. A glorious conquest indeed.

“Unless, of course, Beel already _ate_ all of it while we weren’t looking.”

You turned to Satan. “Boo. Then I’ll make pudding or something and eat that. But I’m hungry and bored and want sugar more than anything else. I could just eat spoonfuls of sugar, actually.”

“Which _still_ isn’t healthy for you. I could make you something with more substance than sugar and milk, if you asked.” He hadn't quite looked up from the book in hand, but you got the impression that somehow, he was still looking at you funny. In his mind. Waiting for you to concede.

You would do no such thing. “But it’ll make my brain go real fast if I get some sugar, and maybe I’ll be able to finish one of my assignments ahead of time. Imagine that. Getting your work done ahead of time.”

“I don’t really have to _imagine_ it.” He reminded you, again, that he was the patron demon of books, and being on top of things; or at the very least, he was vying for the title of ‘most on top of things,’ in a competition with Lucifer, which he was just eking out a win on. Er. In.

“ _ **I**_ do.” It made sense that after five thousand years of being booksmart, Satan would be on top of his game all the time- and not being the default dadliest of the brothers, he could also devote more of his headspace to scholarly pursuits. Unfortunately for you, you had lost that ‘on top of things’ ability some time after grade school. “Also, out of curiosity, how long have you been in RAD? Isn’t this like. Demon College? Or something like that?” 

“Something like that,” he agreed, looking up as you pushed away from the table.

“How long to get your degree?”

“What?”

“You know. To graduate.” You gestured for him to follow you, if for no other reason than to continue the conversation.

“Oh.” He considered it for a second. “Frankly, I’ve passed most of the classes available; I only _don’t_ graduate because I still have other subjects to learn.”

“And the others?”

“Well, you’ve _seen_ **them**. More than half of my brothers aren’t exactly passing even on the _best_ of days.”

“Mmhm.” You steer him towards the kitchen; his attention still half in a book, it wasn’t too hard. As long as you walked towards the kitchen, he tailed after you. You remembered doing something similar when you were still young enough to devour books at a rate of three odysseys per week; following the footsteps of whoever was nearest in your peripheral vision, and occasionally becoming lost because of it. But you were still hungry and distracted, and in any event, if Beel could raid the fridge at odd hours of the night, you should be able to as well.

Satan only _really_ noticed what you were doing when you opened the freezer door. “Then you’re not going to listen to my advice?”

“Nope.” You had already pulled the weirdest-sounding flavor from the ice-box; a spoon in hand, and every intention of eating the whole quart- or, getting a stomach ache trying.

He sighed, a wry smile audible in the sound. “Just try not to make a mess with it, then.”

“I would _never_.”

“Good. Are you ready to go back to your studying?” You noted the use of 'your', implying that he was already done, and that the book he was reading was for fun, because... Because it's Satan and he probably doesn't need to study. Or maybe he never stopped. You tried to catch the title of the book he was reading, but to no avail.

“Do you want the right answer or the true one?”

"There's a difference?" He almost sounded _surprised_ by that one.

"The right one is 'yes'," you started, already prying the lid off your treasure, "and the true one is 'no, but I'll go back to sit with you and stare at my papers for another hour either way'."

"Ah."

"Mmmmhm," you nodded, turning back to the study.

“Don’t use that as a distraction- you still need to finish a few of those assignments tonight, you know," he started after you, eyes off the page for a second or two just to make his point clear. Not that you really noticed, since you were too busy giving yourself the first of many brain freezes. Preparing to use the ice cream, indeed, as a food distraction. It's ever so difficult, after all, to work when you have to use one hand to stabilize the container, and the other to shovel frozen sugar into your mouth at as great a speed as you could manage, before the ice cream just be came melted sugar-cream slurry. "Did you even hear me?"

"Of course," you nodded, "ice cream distraction food bad. I would _never **dream**_ of grabbing a food that needs to be eaten somewhat constantly, to prevent its deterioration into a drink, and which takes some amount of focus to keep from making a mess. Never **once** would I do such a thing."

"You're as bad as Beel."

"Not half so! Me, a mere **human**? All _I'm_ doing is getting a little sugar for my brain." 


	2. Forest Bathing (Satan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stress-relieving walks with our favorite Avatar of Wrath, featuring vocal stims, cats, and moss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @Midori_Cheloniidae for the suggestion, which also prompted me to go outside and find a cool mushroom which soon shall be my food. 10/10 for forest-bathing, and if you live in a place where you can forage, I highly recommend it; just because it feels cool to find wild foods.

You could feel his eyes on you as you tried to read the same line again and again- as though the words were water and you were trying to catch them with a sieve. “How long has it been since you went for a walk?”

You looked up from your assignments, one hand tangled in your hair, and the pot of coffee half empty next to you, instead of in the kitchen where normally it would rest. “I walk from here to RAD and back again every day.”

He shook his head. “I mean a **walk** , not a transit.”

“Is there… A difference?”

Satan snapped his book shut, and you wondered how he’d be able to remember which page he was on, if only because you wouldn’t have remembered to look at the page number in the first place. “There _is_ a difference. Come on,” he held a hand out.

“But you know Lucifer will be on my ass if I don’t finish everything.”

“And you’ll work better if you’re not stressed out about it.”

You gave him a suspicious look as he pulled you out of your chair. “I want you to succeed as much as anyone here; that’s more important than needling _him_. Besides,” he smiled, an innocent and dangerous sort of smile; “I have **other** ways of bringing him grief.”

-

“You fool. I’ll keep stressing all walk long. You’ll see. All shall be for naught.” You played it as just being over-the-top dramatic, and as a joke, but you were half-convinced that this wouldn’t work- even though it had worked every time before.

“If you’re so convinced, we can sit right back down.”

“Absolutely not. We’re already at the door. I’m all mentally prepared to go on a walk- physically, too, in a second. Imagine how distracted I’ll be if I _don’t_ go _now_.”

He laughed; the deadpan dramatics were something that he probably appreciated the most out of the seven- because he, also, was constantly displaying one emotion while feeling another. Display indifference, in truth be energetic- almost high-strung. Display calm amusement, in truth... be the avatar of wrath.

See? Practically soul-siblings.

“Are you familiar at all with shinrin-yoku?”

“Yes.” You paused, zipping your hoodie. “But remind me what it means.”

“Forest bathing, or taking in the forest’s atmosphere.”

“Oh we're gonna walk in the forest? Hell yeah.” You looked over, then looked down at your shoes. “Hey, how many dangerous things are crawling through the Devildom’s soil? Asking for a friend, who might like to run around barefoot.”

“As with a lot of things, it’d be exceptionally _unpleasant_ for you if something were to sting you, or you brushed against something like poison ivy.”

“You have poison ivy here?”

“Of course- but it’s not just the urushiol that’ll make it unpleasant for you.”

“Oh. I bet it’s like actual genuine poison.”

“Yes. So I ask that you keep your shoes on.” You hung your head, vaguely disappointed by that. “... I know of a few moss patches that you could walk on without any danger.”

Oh **man** if that didn’t light you up like a new-moon night’s sky full of stars. He laughed, and you preened, because the idea of heading out and finding new tromping grounds was, in fact, a delightful thing. Even if you had a semi-constant stream of work to deal with.

Especially since you had so much work to do.

“Oh, the forest is where your cats are, too; right?”

“My- sorry?”

“You know. Blackie and the sweet calico lady and Tabbytha and the rest.”

“They’re not _mine_ , you know.”

“They’re yours,” you said definitively, and he found he had little power to argue the point. “You’re their person, in any event, which makes them your cats as a result. These are true facts that apply to all cats, regardless of the realm, because cats are like that.”

“Then... I suppose they’re _my_ cats.” There! A smile that was neither devilish nor false; upon his face a simple expression of elation at this revelation. “To answer your question, yes, the forest is where they live.”

“Fantastic. I bet they’ll be happy to see you.” You could hear him humming, and some part of you understood that this was his own sort of purring. Not the throaty rumble of a pleased cat, but still a low vocalization of his excitement to see them. Your thoughts reverberated around one word, one sound; _pure!_

You walked by his side, letting him lead your party of two on the way to the forest.

-

The forest was absolutely fantastical- to be expected, having come from the human world, but all the same. Running your fingers over every bit of bark and leaf and through the moss that hung like hair around you. “Old man’s beard. Spanish moss of the Devildom.” You looked over your shoulder to see if he’d given an affirmative to your name for it.

Ah, no. He was being greeted by a couple of his friends. You recognized one as the tomcat you'd come to think of as Princess. 

“Satan! What do you call this stuff?”

“I believe it shares a name with its human-world counterpart. Pele’s hair.”

You suddenly became very acutely aware of the fact that your hands had been tangled in it, knowing enough that names in the Devildom were slightly more literal than they were at home. “Dangerous?”

“Hmm? No, it’s just a plant.”

“Oh good.”

He waited a moment before adding, “it’s the critters inside that you’ll want to watch out for.”

You started brushing at your hands aggressively, only to hear his tittering behind you. “Don’t tell me, you put your hand in it?”

“And if I did?”

“Oh dear." You scratched harder. "Well, in that case…” He walked over, the soft crunch of fallen leaf plotting a path until he was behind you, holding your wrists to turn your hands over for an over-the-shoulder inspection; “you’re still in no danger. It would be a little itchy at most. I think fire ants on earth would be comparable.”

You swatted at him, his giggles now a full cackle. “Evil man. Terrible boy. I thought I was supposed to use this walk to chill out. How dare you.”

“Easily; you know I would have stopped you if it was really dangerous.”

“Cruelty! Where’s my moss? I was promised moss. I shall need a lot of moss to soothe the pain you put me through with that.”

If you happened to lisp on the final moss just trying to get it out, he didn’t seem to notice. “Just a bit farther now,” he pointed down the way; not that there was a defined path or anything, but the forest seemed to make a path- in a way that was just enough to let you get really, properly lost if you didn’t pay attention.

“Fantastic. Moss moss moss. Hell yeah.” You looked over when you heard him half-laugh. “What?”

“Quite excited, hmm?”

“Don’t act like you weren’t humming about seeing your cats, cat-boy.” His embarrassed turn of the head was exactly what you’d hoped for, as you sauntered- rather, marched ahead, through grasses that sat in a tangled mess at about halfway up your calf.

-

The moss bed was everything you could have hoped for. It was the cool side of a pillow and the soft-firm plush-weird of the moss that sometimes grew at the base of trees at home, but bigger. It was a whole field of just… Moss! Decadence. You immediately threw yourself on top of it, a warm bubble of sun-yellow joy in your chest. The smell! Earthy and home, home, home. You squished it in your palms, kicked off your shoes and socks and stamped around the perimeter, all the while an enthusiastic sound rang from you. You flopped down again, kicking your legs in the air, and _why is he smiling_. You cast a suspicious look at the demon that now walked lightly over to seat next to you.

“What?”

“ _Quite_ excited.”

“It’s been a long time since I got to squish some quality moss. And I’ve never gotten to lie on a bed of it.” You felt your suspicion double when you realized this was the same face he’d made about seeing his cats earlier that evening. “ **What**?!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you _that_ excited.”

You started to roll away, if only to avoid the burning embarrassment in your face at the good-humored sincerity of it all.

“It’s _cute_.”

“Say no such thing!”

“You can’t stop me from making a simple observation.”

“I’ll throw moss at you.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Both, if it comes down to it.” 


	3. Fast Fashion (Lucifer)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or: Mechaffeine watched a little too much Bernadette Banner and is relatedly celebrating finishing an assignment by writing a wee bit.

Sitting, in relative silence, on the floor in front of Lucifer's desk. He'd insisted on a chair, and you'd plopped yourself down in front of his desk- mostly to be contrarian, and partly because you hadn't foreseen yourself wanting a chair. Foolish. Now, here you were, thinking about how much more comfortable your bones would be on a cushion, rather than on the hard floor with nary but a carpet and the seat of your pants for comfort. Your ankles, too, if you tucked them under yourself; but that would hurt your knees, in your 'gettin' too old for this' body. 

It was, you decided, _perfectly reasonable_ that you'd rather endure a bit of a limp when you got up after sitting on the ground than admit to a form of defeat to _Lucifer_ , of all people. So you buckled in for the ride, metaphorically speaking, and leaned against his desk with a _thump,_ which earned a growl of displeasure. _Ha_.

The longer you didn't work on anything at all, the less you felt like returning to anything that might need doing. You'd been in his office for... You looked at the wall-clock, and wondered whether Lucifer ever checked it himself. He probably did. He's a smug, old-fashioned bastard, of course he'd use his wall-clock instead of checking his phone like you supposed the others did. And then the silence became oppressive, because suddenly a thought waltzed- er, more like _tap-danced_ into your head.

“So. I have a question.” A delicate breach of the silence, just in case your slamming of your back against his desk had been more irritating than you'd realized.

“Ask away,” the level response; and good, he seemed to have recovered his poise.

“How quickly does fashion change in the devildom?” Maybe this would be a better question for Asmo, or for Mammon, but you only just thought of it, and frankly if you didn’t ask now, you’d forget about it before you realized there _was_ something to have forgotten.

But that earned you a funny look- or you imagined it did, based on the silence. Even his pen had stopped scratching momentarily. Probably because you weren’t exactly the sort of person who paid attention to fashion. Or really anything that concerned other people.  _ Definitely a better question for Asmo or Mammon _ .  You made a move, an 'er, that is,' to retract your question; now that you’d been embarrassed about it, it should certainly stick like glue to your cerebral cortex for the rest of your years, but, soft; a thoughtful sigh, and the sound of a pen set down. “Personally I think it moves far too quickly, particularly now. You’ll find that demons tend to mimic the fashion of the human world. In part, this is to make themselves more familiar to humans.” 

“And..?”

“And in part, I think, because some enjoy the rapid shifts that can be observed on your world, on timescales that are practically nothing to us.”

“Drosophila.” You nodded, and you could certainly _feel_ the look he'd have given you, if you were sitting on the chair, or on the couch.   
_The fruit fly of fashion._

“But why the question?” 

You thought about it. Why indeed?   
Because you were extremely aware that, despite each of them being more than five thousand years old, they had modern fashion. Because, despite their age, they also  _ acted _ modern, in a way that seemed to go against what every vampire horror story and paperback novella would have prepared you for . Because, perhaps, you’d been thinking about learning to sew and make your own clothes with Leviathan’s help (if he was willing to indulge you), due to a series of videos you vaguely remembered from when you were still on Earth, with Earth Internet and Earth YouTube, about historical dress, which popped into your head. Because, sometimes, the stars align like that.

“It happened before I could stop it from happening, that I had a question, and needed an answer.”

Or maybe it was because you thought it funny that each and every one of the brothers had adopted a look that seemed modern--if only because none of their looks would be found outside of a 21st century earth--while Lucifer seemed stuck in some romanticized past of elegance and drama. "Very well. I hope that was a satisfactory answer?"

"Can I ask another?"

"You may, though whether I answer is entirely up to me."

"Do your brothers get their clothes tailored?"

"They have the money- _most_ of them, and the time, though not all of them have the patience."

"Satan and Asmo," you guessed, then added, "and Leviathan, but I think he does it for himself if he does it at all, if only to avoid the company of--" you gave a fake gasp of horror; " _other people_."

A laugh that sounded like he was trying to cover it with a cough, which was very pleasing indeed. You took the moment to stand, and saunter, as well as you could, over to his couch, hoping he wouldn't--.

"Finally electing some comfort, hmm?"

You swore under your breath as you hobbled over, falling with all the grace of a shot duck onto the cushions, and ignoring his continued low chuffs of amusement. "Don't you have work to do?"

"I seem to recall it was _you_ who engaged _me_ in conversation."

"I am now disengaging. Feel free to resume your paperwork, which I'm sure you have much of."


	4. Lazy Day Vibes (Leviathan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesting and napping in the house of the Otaku, which is (arguably) the least traffic-heavy of the rooms in the House of Lamentation, barring Lucifer's; I suspect few venture into the cavernous lair of the sea-demon. Canon may disagree, but that's because canon doesn't realize that I'm correct.

Lazy days are very good, you’d decided. Considering the RAD schedule was set up in such a way that there weren’t so many off-days to begin with, you’d come to treasure any time you got to yourself in this, the realm of endless twilight. Admittedly, ‘to yourself’ was relative, since about five out of seven brothers were in-and-out of your room nearly daily, and if you elected to hang out in one of the common areas, all the more likely was it that you’d have one or another by your side.

Not a bad thing in the slightest, of course; just that it meant you’d rarely known time to _yourself_ since arriving.

Today was one such lazy day. While you enjoyed the more dramatic flair of the Party Team (self declared), you just felt… Tired. A nap-all-day-with-tea-or-hot-chocolate sort of vibe in the air, which you had decided upon realizing it was three in the afternoon and you had yet to actually get out of bed.

Now, logically, a naptastic kind of day would suggest that you'd be messaging Belphegor, either to tell him you were going to go find him and use him as a full-sized body pillow, or to try and summon him to your room to nap and continue doing glorious nothing all day. But then, you were clever to the madness of the hall; that each person's room was only really a suggestion of privacy, and that at any moment, if it should be of interest to one of your... Roommates? Suitemates wasn't quite right, but then, neither was roommates. Cohabitors, maybe. If one of them decided to waltz into your room, then all peace was lost, and if you locked the door, peace would be lost the moment you stepped back out. No, indeed, as much as Belphie had the ability to make you drowsy in an instant, there would be too much chance of one of the others demanding more energy from you if you stayed in the open domain that was the majority of the House of Lamentation.

Belphie would be _pissed_ to know you sauntered off to, perhaps, the _best_ napping spot in the whole building, and without so much as inviting him.

_Knock, knock._

"Who is it?"

"Your problematic fave; the nosy bastard human. The one that dwells here, at least."

"Speak the password, knave; or be forever cast away."

"What if I just come in regardless? Is the door locked?"

"Wh- no! You can't just do that though, I said speak the password or leave!"

"So muffled, I can hardly hear. I shall simply assume you have invited me in." You heard the _click-clack_ of his keyboard stop abruptly, and the running stomp-step of socks over hard floor. A sliver of width opened in the doorway, and one amber eye squinted against the bright yellow lights of the hall. "May I come in, O Master of the Depths, Leviathan?"

"Why are you wearing your blanket? It's like... Isn't it midday or something?"

"Mmm, later, actually. It's a nothing kinda day, and nothing days demand that I just hang around and do a lot of nothing, per the title. Unless I can coerce you into leaving the house, but my sense is that I shall not. And in any event, there is no sun in which to nap if we went outside." One of the great tragedies of this new home, really. No sun, just twilight forever, which is very pretty, but tends to leave you feeling cold, despite the warmth that the Devildom's atmosphere could provide. "However, you _are_ cordially invited to join me outside if that should ever happen to strike your fancy."

"Nothing and napping; were you replaced by Belphegor after all, when I wasn't watching?"

"Indeed! A changeling child I be. Here to do fae things, like stay a babe forever- I've even the blanket to be a perfectly good knock-off Sloth Demon. No, I'm still the same me that I've ever been. I think." You shifted. "I repeat, may I come in?"

You were pulled along into the watery depths, in the blue-and-blue of his room, where time seemed to altogether mean nothing- even more than the general state of the Devildom did to you. _Ah, and now we are in the_ _Aquarium del Otaku._ "The invitation also extends to napping, now, if you're tired."

"I just woke up, though..." 

"All the same, so did I. And yet, here we are. If it doesn't appeal to you, you don't have to- obviously. Your room, your rules. I can manage all on my lonesome." So saying, you settled down in a loose nest of heavy quilt, comfortably tucked against a bookshelf and the glass of the aquarium.

"Rude of you to say it like that- what, like you _want_ me to- to... Sleep- er, rest with you?" Stop-stutter-stop; you fluffed your blankets a tad, looking up only to catch him quickly turning away.

"I am rude! Thank you for noticing. But yes, imagine that! I’d like to--” you gasp for effect; “-- **hang out** with you, in _comfortable silence_ no less. And now, how shall our daring hero proceed from here?”

You could hear the gears churning in his head, practically smell the steam and smoke, and read easily the three commas of softly-uncertain that he was outputting now.

“Last call for banishing me to the realm beyond, after this, I'll simply be a heavy sack of potatoes that your scrawny arms will have no chance of lifting.”

“I choose mercy, and let you live yet on in my castle,” he decided, stepping across the room to go fish around in some of the half-opened Akuzon boxes Make it a joke, make it a game, and he calmed down so quick; the disguising of words under allegory was familiar and comfortable, easier than the straightforward speech some others might have preferred from you, and obviously it suited Leviathan just as well. He started up again; “alright with you if I should choose to read instead of sleep?”

“Sure thing, my dude.” Far be it from you to stop him from enjoying a novel, or, more probably--.

“I got a new issue of _Vampire Maid Café: The Story of How One Lower Demon Finds Themself Trapped in a Super-Cute and Thrillingly Dangerous Maid Café!_ and I’ve been _dying_ to get a chance to read it.” The rummaging, picking-up and putting-down of boxes in an effort to find the manga was enough to make you smile to yourself; normally, you'd have expected him to have put it on a shelf, but perhaps he got distracted by another thing- some game or show, and off he went, chasing that good old dopamine, as so often was your own case. "It's so annoying, having to sleep and waste time that I could be using to enjoy my games and shows; I wish I didn't have to sleep. I could make a serious dent in my lists of things to catch up on."

Ah, the old dream. "I've come to enjoy sleep, but I remember the feeling well. But, hey, Vampire Maid Café, huh? You should tell me about it. I like vampires.”

“Don’t you wanna... sleep? Or something?” He sat down next to you, and you twisted so that you were leaning against just the aquarium, so you could look over his shoulder at the manga.

“Maybe. Maybe I just wanna huddle in my blanket and half-sleep as you talk to me about your favorite shows and books and stuff. Maybe that could be fun, I don’t know.”

“Don’t make fun of me, _normie_.”

“Who’s making fun? Shall I fight someone on your behalf?”

“Stop that," he grumbled. Then, louder; "nay, 'tis not necessary, brave knight; 'twas a misunderstanding, it seems, for I had believed _you_ to be striking at me."

"Never so, never so." You yawned, turning further about, so that you might rest against him; "may I steal a leg for my most nefarious napping scheme? I didn't bring a pillow and I don't expect you want me to fish around in the tub for one of yours."

“... I guess???”

“Most excellent.” Not waiting much longer, you slowly lowered yourself with the weight of your head and neck against one leg. It was too easy to imagine that he'd be embarrassed, or feel awkward, or _something_ , because of the physical contact, but! He hadn't shoved you off yet, and that's a good sign. "The art's very cute."

"Mhm, it's a very fun story, too; I can lend you the first book if you like. It's kind of harem, kind of comedy, and a bit of a slice-of-life sort of story, just, you know; if slice-of-life can really apply to someone getting stuck in a maid cafe full of vampires."

"And how does our hero take to this new environment?"

"Oh, they're terrified at first; they're a really low demon, so they're worried at first that these vampires might make dinner of them real quick, before they can even properly get out. There's a spell on the door, which keeps the vampires from leaving- unfortunately, it's a spell that affects all magical creatures, so the demon is also trapped. The café is in the human world, and almost definitely was set up by some- well, that's all speculation, but- there's _probably_ a wizard with as much power as Solomon or more that's keeping all these creatures trapped together, so the demon tries to figure out a way to either break the spell on the building, or else to get them all to the Devildom, but because they're such a low demon, it's not like _they've_ got the magic needed to open a whole new portal, but along the way, it's just a lot of fun stories with how some of the older vampires react to newer technology, and the way that the demon gets along with- or doesn't- with the vampires, and-."

 _Yes, perfect._ Endearing, you agreed with yourself; it was endearing when he opened up, and talked about the things that interested him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are once again celebrating the completion of a School Thing with some more writing; and I discover that writing in Leviathan's voice is, in fact, not easy for me.  
> "The story in which all my creativity is exhausted trying to make up one of those ridiculous titles they use in the game for Leviathan's fave series, and I spend a few too many minutes trying to find a Romance language with -u endings to determine gender, before deciding that 'this is in fact a waste of time, the gender of this otaku is masc, so masc. it shall be. Duh.'"
> 
> If someone writes Vampire Maid Cafe I would love to read it thank u goodnight <3


End file.
